Our Little House

After eight years of renting tiny apartments, we finally bought our first house this fall. It is small and old, the kitchen floor slopes a little, and one of the doors only closes if you lift it.

We love every inch of it.

On our first night, we didn't have furniture yet. We sat on the living room floor eating pizza out of the box, our backs against the wall, just looking around. Our dog ran laps from room to room like she couldn't believe all this space was hers.

Our new neighbors brought over cookies and a note that said, "Welcome to the street!" The little boy next door has already asked if he can help us rake leaves.

We've been painting walls every weekend. Yellow for the kitchen, blue for the bedroom. The house is slowly becoming ours.

Home isn't about how big it is. It's about who's inside, laughing on the floor with pizza.